Writer Lady opens her eyes and looks at the ceiling. She listens as the weight of four paws hit the hallway floor at full speed. Another set of paws hit with a louder thump taking off in the same direction. She looks at the time. It’s still early. The sun is up already. It creates shadows of the trees and other remnants of nature that linger outside on her curtains.
Writer Lady thinks about her plans for the coming day which leads to questioning her plans for the coming day which leads to contemplating the meaning of her life.
Dobby jumps onto the bed and peers into her face. “Mom? Me and the guys we were wondering…”
“I just looked at the clock it’s not time yet kitty.”
“We were wondering if more tuna was coming.”
Writer Lady looked into her ginger tabby’s bright green eyes. “You just had some.”
“That was over an hour ago.”
“Yes there is more tuna but not this morning. Later.”
“The guys wanna know how much later.”
“There will be more tuna this evening.” She responds.
Writer Lady hears whispering coming from beyond the doorway.
Dobby turns to look at something in the hallway. Turning back to Writer Lady he says, “Would that be late afternoon evening or after dark evening?”
“In the middle.”
Dobby starts to ask another question.
“Five-thirty. You are fed at five-thirty every evening. It has been that way for most of your life.”
“There will be tuna?”
“There will be tuna.”
“That’s what I told the guys but...they didn’t believe me.”
Writer Lady turns over and looks at two pair of eyes peering at her from the far side of the entry. “Five -thirty. There will be more tuna at five-thirty.”
“Thanks Mom.” Dobby says before turning to leap off the bed and thunder through the living room calling out, “Tuna at five-thirty. More tuna at five-thirty.”
Writer Lady lays back down, looks at ceiling and whispers, “Why...why do I bother?”
“Reminder, the only way you are going to have time to do the exercising you didn’t do yesterday morning is to get up now.” House says.
“Thanks for the update.” Writer Lady says without moving.
She still has not moved when a knuckle is tapped against the bedroom door frame three times. She looks up to find Tinkletoes standing in the entry.
“There’s no coffee.”
Writer Lady rolls her eyes and ignores the self-proclaimed mercenary.
“We’ve been waiting 30 minutes.”
There is no response.
“It’s Saturday.” He announces.
Writer Lady takes a pillow and covers her head with it.
Tinkletoes enters the room and stands closer to the bed. “Saturday.” Tinkletoes repeats. “Your writing day. The day you do all things writerly.”
She does not budge.
Tinkletoes looks at Carp who is standing in the hallway.
“Maybe she’s blocked.” Carp suggests.
“You know what really helps when a writer is having trouble getting going?” Tinkletoes continues. “Making coffee.”
Writer Lady adjusts the pillow so her mouth is no longer covered. “And you know that how?” She asks.
“I heard it on one of those late night interview shows. That writer guy said it.”
“Which writer guy?”
“That one everyone loves...Steven...a...um...Evanovich.”
Carp covers his mouth to hide his smile.
“Yeah...Steven Evanovich.” Tinkletoes continues. “He wrote all those books with lawyers in them and that sappy one about some notebook.”
Writer Lady removes the pillow. “Says the man who doesn’t read.”
Tinkletoes looks at Carp. “I’m wrong?”
“You mentioned at least four different authors.”
“Really?” The self-proclaimed mercenary thinks for a moment and says, “I think I did. He didn’t write that stuff, he wrote the books about the vampires. The ones that wore glitter at dusk.”
Writer Lady sits up and looks at Carp.
“I think he’s trying to say Twilight.” Carp explains.
“Well if the guy who wrote Twilight finds making coffee stimulating.” Writer Lady says. “I should try it.” She gets out of bed, puts on her robe and herds the men out of her bedroom.
Writer Lady finally sits down at her computer in High Command just before lunch. Pulling up her web page, she goes to her settings and proceeds to make some adjustments. She changes the color scheme of her web page. She mutters and changes it back. She clicks on art, adds it, then deletes it. Shaking her head and releasing a sigh she returns to social media.
Writer Lady looks at the rejection letter sitting next to her keyboard, mutters, and closes her internet window. She looks around the room not really doing anything. Hearing a sound, Writer Lady looks into the hallway, recognizing that whomever is making the sound is coming closer to High Command, she runs back to The Big Writing Chair and plops down. She opens the browser window to her web page and pretends to work.
Tinkletoes pokes his head in, “How’s it goin’?”
“Meh.”
He steps in the room and looks at the monitor. “That doesn’t look like your usual stuff.
Writer Lady turns around. “I wasn’t really getting anywhere so I thought I’d work on the web page for a bit. I'm trying to make it more visually interesting, boost traffic.”
“Have you tried adding some Camo?” Tinkletoes asks.
“I don’t think Camo is something her readers would be attracted to.” Carp says. “Most of them are female.”
“Pink Camo?”
Carp looks at Writer Lady, “Female readers might like a floral background, baby animals, a picture of a room or a place that is visually pleasing.”
“Flowers?” She asks.
“Perhaps a vintage wall paper? Something with large flowers?”
“Pink ones.” Tinkletoes says.
Tears well in Writer Lady’s eyes. “Big pink flowers?”
“Yeah.” Tinkletoes says.
She looks at Carp. “I hate big pink flowers.”
“Yeah well the web page isn’t for you. You have to set it up so people look at you.” The self-proclaimed mercenary says.
Carp rolls his eyes. “It isn’t just about traffic. It about persona. Writer Lady is right, the web page has to reflect her personality if she wants to not only get but keep her readers. A reader who feels betrayed means your career becomes delayed.”
Carp looks at Tinkletoes, “She needs to center on a persona and be that woman with her public.”
“I just want people to read my books, why do they need to look at me?”
Carp looks at Tinkletoes and smiles, “She’s so cute when she’s naive.” He looks back at Writer Lady.
“Who are you?” He asks.
“I’m a nice woman who writes stories which grow into books.”
“And?”
“They’re good stories?”
“And?”
Writer Lady shakes her head.
Carp looks at Tinkletoes. “This is going to take a while.”
The self-proclaimed mercenary leaves the room.
Carp looks into Writer Lady's eyes. “I hate to tell you this sweetie but you need more than that.”
“Why?”
“Because nice women who write nice stories don’t get published.” House declares. “And they aren't widely read.”
Carp looks at the ceiling. "I've forgotten House, how many books have you written?"